


Miss Fleur

by Judeyjude



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Fluff, Pining, Pomona and Tonks are best bros, background Minerva/Pomona
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 14:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11853825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judeyjude/pseuds/Judeyjude
Summary: Tonks saw the slimmest spread of Fleur's ice but she could sense the depth beneath it. She imagined herself as the Titanic, skimming and crashing into Fleur’s iceberg and falling apart completely.The thought sounded mildly pleasant.---Visting her kindred spirit Pomona at the elderly nursing home, Tonks meets an interesting woman described as having "lost more than loved".





	Miss Fleur

Tonks never mastered the talent of secret-keeping. For others, she held their confessions fiercely close and quiet. For herself, she carelessly wore her heart on her sleeve—at least, that was what her mother said. 

 

“You and your uncle,” she’d huff. “You are both un-shuttable books.”

 

Nature or nurture, it didn’t really matter, but Tonks certainly shared a few traits with her beloved uncle Sirius. His rebellious, tactless, and flaunting lifestyle inspired quite a few people who came across him. But Tonks got along just as famously with Sirius’ husband, someone who actually kept his emotions and secrets close to heart. 

 

Sometimes Tonks tried to be less open, but she found it much more fun and less stressful to just be. 

 

“Just let me _be_ , mom,” she’d say.

 

“Be what?”

 

“Be. Just let me be.”

 

=

 

Tonks had been fairly fortunate as a young questioning woman. As a child, she received a lot of smack for all the questions she spouted, particularly at authoritative figures. And then a particular set of questions began happening, even before puberty, and they never stopped, really.

 

“So you are,” a person would trail off, waiting for Tonks to confirm or deny homosexuality—as if that was the only other sexuality. 

 

“Questioning,” she stated, proudly, without confusion. If people became annoyingly persistent, she’d change her answer to “fluid”. Gender, sexuality, romanticism—any of her orientations. She wanted to be free to change. So she was.

 

And beyond that. Life yearned to be limitless and she intended to tap into that potential.

 

As someone “different” in such a stagnant society, Tonks recognized how fortunate she had been. Sure, she got looks, a few comments, but she lived in a place where people claimed to be “accepting”, “progressive”, “we’re all humans”. Behind doors, behind their faces—that was a different story. She felt uncomfortable growing up but never that unsafe.

 

All except once. 

 

It had been her first girlfriend—two weeks secretly together as eleven-year-olds—and they pressed their lips together, clumsily, behind an ice cream shop. Two girls a few years older than them saw and began harassing them, insulting them for being _perverted._ Naturally, Tonks threw a punch, gifting someone and earning her own first split lip.

 

Then, from the heavens, descended the Angel of the Gays. Also known as Mrs. Sprout, the school gardener.

 

It was amazing, infinitely better than the mediocre kiss minutes prior—the _shade_ Mrs. Sprout could throw. Tonks’ inner Sarcastic Savage™ grew like Jack’s bean stalk solely from that one experience. Those two girls went running for the hills.

 

Afterwards, Tonks wouldn’t settle for anything less than bi-weekly Sunday tea with Mrs. Sprout, now Pomona, and her wife, Minerva.

 

“Oh for goodness' sake,” Minerva had sighed, though with more amusement than Tonks’ mother had said it when Tonks walked through the front door at seventeen and a half years old.

 

“You wear your heart on your sleeve, dear,” Pomona had said, “but you sure do wear sex on your face.” She promptly fell apart into giggles.

 

=

 

When Pomona was admitted to an elderly home, unable to care for herself, Tonks wanted nothing more than to be there for her but life had other plans. Things spiraled, Tonks spiraled, thinks went crazy, Tonks went crazy. They lost contact.

 

At twenty-two, Tonks met a sweltering summer wrapped in grey, gloomy clouds trapping in the heat. Her uncle Sirius and his husband Remus wordlessly welcomed her into their home with no expectations. Something in Remus—gorgeous as ever—reminded her of the solace she found in her Pomona.

 

In ripped, baggy black jeans, Tonks borrowed the car at early dawn and drove North for three hours. Boasting Sirius’ friend’s shirt—dark maroon with _Shove this up your Ass_ accompanied by a pair of antlers—Tonks made her way through that elderly home, claiming to be Pomona’s niece.

 

“I think you’ve lost a few marbles,” Tonks said.

 

Pomona, her face wrinkled with peace like the leaves of her well-loved greenhouse plants, said, “More than a few. Not the good ones, I hope.”

 

Tonks hummed, stretching her body out in pretend contemplation, her chair tilted back on two legs. “I think you may have one or two good ones left. The rest, I’m afraid, are fairly rotten.”

 

Pomona smiled. “Splendid.”

 

=

 

Tonks forgot the moment she met _her._ Maybe it was the time they crashed in the hallway, a surprise when rounding the corner. Perhaps it was when she silently popped into Pomona’s room to clear away dishes and trash.

 

All Tonks remembered was that at one point she held her hand out, a cheery introduction on the tip of her tongue, and the girl stared at Tonks’ hand in a vague, distasteful manner before brushing past her. 

 

“What’s up with her?” It came out as an uncharacteristic grumble, but Tonks itched with a renewed curiosity. 

 

“Miss Fleur?” Pomona stroked her thumb over her sweet potato sprout. She plainly said, “Oh, she’s lost more than she’s loved.”

 

=

 

_Lost more than loved_ made its way onto the Lupin’s fridge, stuck to it with a magnet. Remus had a strange habit of sticking certain phrases or words in places. Tonks’ favorite was the most messily scrawled, barely distinguishable as Remus’ handwriting, _pigeons poop daily_ with a giant period after each word. He tried to throw it away several times but Sirius always, always found it and re-taped it somewhere.

 

Remus raised a challenging eyebrow when she snorted at the reiterated words of Pomona, shared to him by Tonks yesterday.

 

“Maybe I’ll put up something, too,” Tonks said, a slow smirk gracing her face. “I know I heard a few interesting phrases when I passed by your bedroom door last night. Maybe I’ll even share it with Teddy.”

 

Sirius entered the kitchen, lazily holding a sleepy Teddy. “You know,” he said, “you’re kinda an asshole.”

 

Stealing the toast from Remus’ hand and taking a bite, Tonks smiled broadly. “But I put the kind in _kind_ a an asshole.” 

 

“Ah-hol!” Teddy repeated.

 

=

 

Even without the written reminder on the fridge, the explanation ran through Tonks’ mind tirelessly. It might have been futile, Pomona may have been spewing nonsense like she was now prone to do. Tonks shamelessly took the words to heart from a woman that left grapes by the door for supposed mice that came at night.

 

She wondered if “Miss Fleur” had overheard the conversation or if she was a mind reader—how _wicked_ would that be!—because she clearly sensed the intrigue and her unspoken answer was a firm no.

 

Not necessarily steering clear of Tonks, Fleur ghosted around her, still tall and proud but with an almost feral skittishness. 

 

For the first time in her life, Tonks became tangled in true frustration that seeped deep into her bones.

 

Fleur was the type of beautiful that old people said could get a girl in trouble, had a large black mole on her collarbone, and a blank face that perfected hiding everything.

 

It was like that stupid poster in Tonks’ old English professor’s classroom, the one of an ice berg showing the small tip above the water and the enormous extent of ice beneath. A metaphor for analyzing text past the surface.

 

Tonks saw the slimmest spread of Fleur's ice but she could sense the depth beneath it. She imagined herself as the Titanic, skimming and crashing into Fleur’s iceberg and falling apart completely.

 

The thought sounded mildly pleasant.

 

=

 

“Morning, Miss Fleur,” Tonks greeted at the front desk. She made no move to sign in on the open binder.

 

Fleur stared at desk’s computer screen for roughly two minutes. Tonks knew thisbecause she made it about halfway through Nicki Minaj singing Anaconda inside her head. 

 

“Violet’s not really your color,” Fleur eventually spoke. 

 

Tonks instinctively touched her short, colored hair. A chuckle escaped her mouth. “It makes me look peaky, doesn’t it?”

 

Fleur’s eyes flickered to Tonks and Tonks took it as surprise even though her expression hadn’t changed. This would be difficult. Tonks would need to hone in on her observation skills to be able to bounce off Fleur’s mood and reactions. 

 

Unapologetically, Fleur said, “Yes.”

 

This time, Tonks noticed the thick french accent cloaking Fleur’s voice. She’d heard before that the French hated them but she decided this brashness was just Fleur as herself. Tonks had the impression that this mysterious woman rejected all and any influence from others. 

 

Tonks didn’t mind influence, herself. She liked people, liked trying on new attitudes, learning and picking up habits here and there. She found that everyone had something to offer.

 

Signing in, Tonks watched Fleur pull out a piece of gum.

 

=

 

“Whaddaya think?” Tonks asked, twirling around with her arms wide. 

 

Fleur blinked several times and Tonks noticed her hands tighten slightly around the cart of food trays she was pushing. 

 

“Better?” Tonks prompted.

 

Fleur maneuvered around her. When their bodies aligned next to each other for a brief second, she muttered something in French. Tonks considered it a compliment to her new bubblegum pink hair.

 

=

 

“What’s this girl to you, anyway?” Sirius asked, pushing toy trains with Teddy, who was naked for no reason.

 

Tonks lied on the ground with her legs stretched up against the cool wall, her ass pressed firmly against it. Tilting her head back, she blew a raspberry and Teddy, upside-down from her view, clapped his hands. “How come Mother never taught me french? Wasn’t that a,” she pitched her voice into a stuffy superior tone, “ _Black tradition_?”

 

Sirius mimicked the voice. “ _Ah yes, the good old cult customs_.” He dropped it. “I don’t know, I don’t look like your mother, do I?”

 

“Yes, you do,” Tonks said, thinking how any picture of a Black's face looked identical.

 

“But I’m _much_ prettier. I don’t know, maybe she wanted to get away from all that traumatic stuff. I know I did. French is still quite useful to me though, isn’t it Moony?” Sirius raised his voice at the end.

 

Remus peeked out of his little office, dorky old man glasses perched on the end of his nose. “What?”

 

Sirius spoke a long string of sentences in French and Remus’ face instantly bloomed pink before his head disappeared and the door slammed shut. Tonks raised and dropped her arms onto the floor for emphasis. “See? Even Remus knows French.”

 

“Oh, Remus doesn’t know a lick of French.”

 

When it hit her, Tonks gasped loudly and said in a scandalized fashion, “ _Remus_!”

 

A muffled _I hate you both_ came through the wall. Sirius and Tonks burst into laughter and Teddy clapped along.

 

=

 

“Why do you come here every day?” It was more of an accusation than a question.

 

“Got nothin’ else to do,” Tonks said. She noticed Fleur’s eyes darted down to Tonks’ belly button piercing for a split second. Today, Tonks wore shorts, a horrid shade of green, that could be zipped into pants and a cropped yellow tank top with a Bob Dylan design. She hadn’t really listened to his songs or had an opinion on him, but the design on it had looked funny at the second-hand shop. She wondered what clothes Fleur wore outside of the pale blue work uniform. 

 

“You mean avoiding,” Fleur said. She flipped her long hair over her shoulder in a way that seemed like she wasn’t aware of how sassy it was. She walked away, sashaying like she wasn’t aware of how her hips moved, either.

 

Or like she wanted people to think she didn’t know what she was doing.

 

=

 

Tonks came into Pomona’s room multiple times while Fleur read to her, but each time Fleur had stopped and left.

 

“She _reads_ to you?” Tonks had asked.

 

“She has a beautiful reading voice and soul,” Pomona had said. “Plus, she has the most hilarious critiques on characters.”

 

Fleur frowned—not physically, still a blank sheet, but Tonks could feel it—and Tonks smiled, waving the bouquet of tulips from the doorway. Pomona placed a shaky hand on Fleur’s wrist, stopping her from shutting the book in her lap.

 

“No, go on, dear. If you don’t mind.”

 

Fleur’s response was defiant and immediate. “I do not.”

 

Not wanting to make Fleur more uncomfortable, Tonks pulled up a chair a good distance away and closed her eyes as she listened. Fleur stumbled on the first word but never again after. Even though she read slowly, pronouncing each sentence like she had difficulty deciphering words, her voice was hypnotic. Tonks took in little of the actual plot, except the ending, a brilliant twist that she easily saw coming.

 

Pomona fell asleep by the end.

 

“Is this a favorite of yours?” Tonks whisper-asked.

 

Fleur wrinkled her nose, an actual expression, offended at her taste being associated with John Steinbeck’s _The Pearl_. “This? I took it from some old man’s shelf.”

 

“A thief, huh?” Tonks teased, inwardly delighted. The potential in a great friendship between them grew.

 

A jaw muscle ticked. Fleur smiled blandly before stepping away.

 

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” Tonks rushed to say, “and I won’t say anything. I’ve stolen _lots_ of stuff, well I’ve nicked, I mean, as in pranks—”

 

“You have not hurt my feelings,” Fleur interrupted. “If you excuse me, I’m going to return this.” 

 

Tonks stared helplessly as Fleur left, and then at the shut door for a good minute or so.

 

“Well, that went horribly,” Pomona piped up from behind, in the armchair she had supposedly fallen asleep in.

 

=

 

“Holy shit,” Tonks whispered to herself.

 

“Language.”

 

“Holy fuck!” Tonks’ spoon clattered to the floor, flinging cornflakes with it. She gaped at the window, at the small figure walking down the street. “That’s her!”

 

“Who?”

 

“The girl from Pomona’s. I was looking out the window, waiting for Richard to show up so I can cat-call him, and then I saw—I saw, she,” Tonks trailed off, pressing her forehead into the glass, with her hands on either side of her head. Fleur came to a stop in Tonks’ foggy exhale on the window.

 

“Human interaction begins with actual interaction. Just a helpful tip,” Remus said from the kitchen.

 

“Human compassion begins with actual compassion. Just a helpful tip,” Tonks fired back.

 

“Really? Hm. And all these years I thought it began with sarcasm to thinly veil love. Tonks, I’m serious—don’t say it—go and say hello. Invite her up.”

 

“Aw, you love me.”

 

“I’m tired of putting up with your ugly personality. Go make a new friend. Have some compassion for me.”

 

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. I’m going to do it.” Tonks stared out the window three seconds longer, making sure Fleur was still there. She popped up and hurried to the door, grabbing a coat off a hanger. “I’M DOING IT!” she shouted. A muted Sirius _YAY!_ came from down the hallway somewhere.

 

Hurrying down the apartment complex’s stairs, Tonks physically crossed her fingers, hoping for the best. A friend would be nice. Everyone else in this part of town seemed to be old and older.

 

A burst of hot air ruffled her short hair as she pushed the lobby door open. “Hey, Miss Fleur!”

 

Fleur took a moment to search the street, looking for Tonks. She acted to not be caught off guard but Tonks noticed the tiniest flinch when she first called out. Tonks jogged across the street, waving stupidly.

 

“Hi,” she said again. “Good morning.”

 

“It’s almost noon,” Fleur deadpanned. “You should look before you cross a road, you know.”

 

“So, whatcha doing? Do you usually go on walks on the weekend? Are those bird seeds?” Little grains littered the ground before them and Richard pecked at them. “Richard!”

 

“Richard?”

 

“Yeah, he comes here every morning with a stick in his beak and gives it to his lover, Larry. I don’t see Larry today, though.” Tonks scanned the surrounding area. “Hm. Maybe they had a fight.”

 

Fleur openly stared at Tonks. When she regained composure she said, “I carry bird seeds in my pocket for my walks. So, is this what you do, then? Creep on pigeon relationships and be babysat by Mrs. Sprout?”

 

“That’s adorable. Sorry, I’m still caught up on the bird feeding part.”

 

A sudden wetness hit Tonks’ shoulder and she cussed, twisting around and looking up to see Sirius hanging out the window, holding a water gun. He shook it at her. “Far shooting! Neat huh? Come on up, French Girl! Remus made cookies and I need someone else to help pretend they taste good.” Sirius threw on his charming smiling-smirk, bright enough to see even from this distance.

 

Tonks glanced at Fleur apologetically and hopefully. “That’s my uncle. He’s a pain in the ass, but he’s cool.”

 

“Insanity runs in the family, then?”

 

Tonks laughed. Fleur blinked, and Tonks guessed she appeared almost proud. “C’mon, come with me. For support. The cookies really are awful.”

 

“You people have a strange way of persuading.” Fleur crossed the street without checking for cars.

 

=

 

“Why are these everywhere?” 

 

Cookie and random-food-in-the-fridge time had been a little chilly and awkward at first but Sirius and Tonks together made an excellent team of barreling right through any tension. Remus and Fleur bonded in quieter conversation and he even made her smile once—which Tonks was resolutely jealous about, though unsurprised.

 

The terribly gross married couple went to wash the dishes together, clearly giving the two girls time together alone. Tonks had led her down the hallway toward the guest room she had snuggly settled in. 

 

Fleur’s fingers hovered, tempted to touch, over the slip of paper on the wall that said _“no!”_ with a scribbled date next to it. She raised an eyebrow at Tonks, waiting for an answer. 

 

“Oh, Remus does that. Just hoards words. That’s Teddy’s first word.”

 

“Their son?”

 

“Yup,” Tonks popped the p. “Remus’ dad is watching him right now but he’ll probably be back soon.”

 

Fleur nodded absently and Tonks moved them back into action, leading the way to her room and kicking open the ajar door. 

 

“Welcome to my humble abode. Sorry ’s bit messy.”

 

“Colorful,” Fleur commented, neutral.

 

Tonks cocked her head. She had never thought of it that way, but she supposed it was. Oranges, reds, yellows, pinks. Sitting on the swivel chair at the desk, she spun around and grinned, gesturing for Fleur to have a seat on her bed. 

 

“So, how come a nursing home? Are you an old soul who only connects with old people,” Tonks joked.

 

“Need money,” Fleur said, her voice a hint bitter as she sat down. Huh. Tonks had been under the impression Fleur came from big money. Her clothes looked expensive. A pale grey romper, high lacy white socks, cute little brown shoes. Tonks’ question of what Fleur would wear was finally, partially answered. “And no,” Fleur continued. “Despite the cliche view of working with old people being cute and enlightening, they can be quite rude and difficult.”

 

“I’m sure some are sweet. You must have made a few friends.” 

 

“Mrs. Sprout is…spritely. On her good days.” Her voice had a softened quality to it. The effort it took to catalogue and analyze every small difference in Fleur was exhausting. Rewarding, too. “I can see why you get along.”

 

“You’re saying I’m spritely, Miss Fleur?”

 

“Maybe _unfiltered_ is a better fit.” Fleur stood up and went to look at the figurines at the bedside table. With her back to Tonks, she added, “It’s not bad.”

 

=

 

When Fleur insisted on leaving, Tonks insisted on having the water bottle peeking out of her bag be refilled. With the heat outside, one needed to stay hydrated. 

 

“What’s this mean?”

 

Tonks finished pouring cold water from their Brita filter. Her heart jumped, seeing Fleur trace her finger over the words on the fridge.

 

“I don’t know,” Tonks softly answered. “You tell me.”

 

Fleur’s hand dropped from the words _lost more than loved._

 

_=_

 

“Ayyyy Rich-ARD lookin’ good today,” Tonks called out the window the next morning. “You bring wingman to a whole other meaning!”

 

=

 

Fleur opened up, a flower’s petals unfolding one by one, after that. She held conversations that were more than a few sentences and shared the times she read to Pomona.

 

She even started muttering her insults at certain characters, which never failed to make Tonks laugh in some way.

 

=

 

Tilting her head, Fleur scrutinized Tonks' face. 

 

“What do you think? We acted out Peter Pan for Teddy last night and I was Hook. I _love_ it. Not really good with makeup but I watched some videos and I think I did pretty good.” Tonks made a flourishing movement with her hand around her lower face, showing off the beard she had drawn on with Sirius’ eyeliner.

 

Fleur wrinkled her nose in distaste. She held up a finger and left, leaving Tonks with a sort of sinking feeling in her stomach. She never gave people the power to make her feel uncomfortable but for some reason, this stung. Touching her face, she even considered wiping it off.

 

When Fleur came back she held up something in her hand. “Here,” she said, uncurling Tonks’ fist and forcing a blue liquid eyeliner pen in her hand. “This color would suit your face much better.”

 

=

 

Tonks caught Fleur smoking a cigarette around the back of the nursing home building.

 

“I don’t know if you’ve heard,” Tonks walked forward at a leisurely pace, her hands in her pockets, and Fleur eyed her warily, “but those can actually lengthen your life. Magic.”

 

Fleur’s lips twitched. Tonks came close, so close, and she noticed a small freckle under Fleur’s left eye. Reaching out, she plucked the cigarette, her fingers brushing those pink lips. She brought it to her own lips and sucked in, promptly coughing out the smoke with watery eyes. 

 

Tonks would never forget this next moment and she’d look back on it lovingly until the day she died. That night, she’d simply write down the date and an estimated time, pinning it up on the wall next to Teddy’s first word—Fleur’s first laugh.

 

A grating, barking-like sound erupted forth and Tonks' mouth parted as Fleur hunched over, snorting with laughter. 

 

Tonks’ face protested the power of her smile but she kept widening her grin, exposing her teeth in delight. She dropped the cigarette, uncaring, which she had intended to do anyway.

 

“I thought you’d be good at that,” Fleur said, her voice sweetly breathless. 

 

Tonks shrugged, not offended. “Nah, never really my thing. I’m a surprise.”

 

Nodding, Fleur exhaled a half-laugh, loose sarcasm in her voice when she agreed. “Yes. You are—what’s the word,” Fleur licked her lips, thinking. “How do you say it? Clumsy.”

 

“Clumsy?” Tonks laughed. “If I gained a year of life every time I heard that, I’d never die.”

 

“Clumsy,” Fleur repeated. “In life.” She leaned against the building wall and a gust of wind—hot as ever—rippled her hair, a strand crossing her face. She didn’t reach up to push it away. It struck Tonks how beautiful she was. “You knock into everything—knees all bruised, yes. But clumsy in life, too. With people. With how you move in,” Fleur tapped her own chest.

 

Tonks thought she understood. “Good clumsy?”

 

Fleur’s lips tipped upwards. She slid down the wall, coming to sit on the ground. She patted the space beside her, inviting Tonks to follow. 

 

Coming down, a thrill ran through Tonks. She crossed her legs, noticing that the strip of exposed skin above Fleur’s ankles was covered in hair. Personally, Tonks liked shaving her legs at this point in time, such a soft feeling. She wondered if Fleur never shaved. She wanted to reach out and touch. 

 

“Pomona’s having a tough day,” Fleur said. Her accent came out thicker the more she talked. “Heart aches.”

 

Tonks’ gaze dropped and she folded her hands, twisting a silver ring. “Minerva.”

 

“Her wife?”

 

“Yeah. She was brilliant. Pomona-level brilliant. Harsh and fantastic,” Tonks said. She missed Sunday tea days. It took a minute for her to meet Fleur’s gaze. Her face had tightened back to that blank look, making Tonks realize just how relaxed Fleur had been moments before. “Death is weird.”

 

Fleur shook her head. “Not weird. I don’t fear it all. The pain beforehand maybe, but not the death, not dying.”

 

“I constantly shift. I don’t know what I think.”

 

“Clumsy.”

 

Tonks laughed. Fleur smiled.

 

Something wet dropped on Tonks’ leg and she narrowed her eyes, wildly expecting Sirius and his best friend to be spying somewhere with their water guns. Another droplet hit her.

 

“Is it raining?” Fleur asked.

 

“Right? I think I felt something.” The rain became visible, slow at first and then soon turning into a downpour. They sprang up and pushed back against the wall, trying to use the tiny overhang of the building’s roof for protection. “Well, fuck,” Tonks mumbled. She turned her head, finding Fleur already staring intensely at her.

 

They locked gazes, their heavy breathing softly audible over the sound of rain. 

 

They didn’t look away for a long time.

 

=

 

“I always wanted to be an old straight woman saying ‘you’ll see one day’ to two people interested in each other,” Pomona said, eyeing Tonks.

 

“You’re not straight. And I don’t think a straight woman would say that to a non-hetero couple.”

 

Pomona raised her eyebrows at Tonks, rearranging the flowers in a crappy ceramic vase Remus made.

 

Tonks made an outraged sound when she realized. “I didn’t mean we’re a couple! I don’t see her like that. _She_ doesn’t see me like that.”

 

“You’ll see one day.”

 

=

 

Fleur joined Tonks on a walk to the park with Sirius, Remus, and Teddy. They walked a little bit behind the small family. Tonks ignored her bitterness toward Sirius chatting easily with Fleur in French—the way she had perked up excitedly when he spoke. How strange, all these new feelings Tonks experienced. Envy and such had never been her thing.

 

“Teddy is adorable. I love his hair. Very unique.”

 

Tonks tripped over a sidewalk crack and expertly kept walking like it hadn’t happened. “Thanks. I did it when they were having a date night and I was babysitting.”

 

“What were their reactions?”

 

“I took a great Polaroid of their faces when they walked in. I can show you next time you come—if you come back to the flat. They’re pretty chill but still shocked. I just used some blue food dye.”

 

“You’re trouble.”

 

Tonks grinned. “You should see Rem and Sirius’ friends together. That water gun was nothing.”

 

“I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

 

Tonks laughed at Fleur’s expression. “Nah, I think you’d have fun. We’d be a good team. I see you, Miss Fleur. You can fool people and easily sneak up. You’re not a prim princess.”

 

Expecting Fleur to smile and duck her head, Tonks was surprised to find she was the one to hide her reddening face. Fleur’s smile was a deadly thing. 

 

“Are you his favorite aunt?”

 

“His only aunt, really.” 

 

“What?”

 

“What?”

 

“You had a funny look on your face. I never expected you to hold something back.” A fond taunt—an easy opening to confess or drop the subject. 

 

Slowing her pace, Fleur copying, Tonks said, “I’m actually his mother.”

 

“His mother?”

 

“Yeah. Typical ‘teen trash’ story. Knocked up the second I left home, uninterested biological father. It fucking sucked, I do _not_ recommend being pregnant. Especially the last month. Sirius bought me a whale costume for Halloween because I was so big.” Tonks lifted her shirt and pointed out the silvery stretch marks. “I thought about abortion but I don’t know. Remus and Sirius struggled with being on a waiting list to adopt a child. And at the time, they almost had a child but it fell through at the last minute. The thought popped into my head and I just offered it without thinking and I’m glad I did. I love Teddy but I love being an aunt. My mother was pretty good about it. But she can be suffocating and I got post pregnancy depression or whatever. Went to school, dropped out, went to school, dropped out. Remus offered me a room here to sort things through.”

 

Fleur listened quietly, her face pleasant—no pity, no judgment, no shock. “Does Teddy know?”

 

“No. I don’t think he’d understand, anyway. He’s only two. I don’t usually tell people. Actually,” Tonks thought about it, “I’ve never told anyone. Everyone around me at the time knew, obviously. I lost all my friends. Well, I guess I had to tell my mom but she looked at my face and basically knew.”

 

“Clumsy. Open heart.”

 

Tonks eyed her with a burst of affection. She wanted to make her laugh again. “I told her she chose the wrong name for me.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“My real name is _Nymphadora,_ ” Tonks used the stiff voice she and Sirius did and stuck her tongue out. “Our gross blood family loves stars. But there’s, like, a Saint Nymphadora that’s a virgin or whatever. I mean, she knew I had sex and stuff but I felt like this was the next level of not being my name.”

 

Fleur didn’t laugh but she did snort unattractively. Tonks adored it. “That’s a stupid joke.”

 

Tonks shrugged. “I’ve always hated my name. So I go by my last name.”

 

“I think it is fitting.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Like a Nymph.”

 

“Are you calling me a magical creature?

 

Fleur was silent. Her fingers briefly brushed against Tonks’ as they walked. “Maybe.”

 

=

 

They started having Sunday hang-outs at this coffee shop near the flat. 

 

=

 

“Ah, the subtle dance of love. You remember those days, Moons dearest?”

 

“Sirius, you’re about as subtle as smashing a rock into someone’s face. You literally hung up mistletoe over my bed while I slept. In July.”

 

“You guys are disgusting and _we’re not dancing_.”

 

“I don’t get it. It’s not like you’re having a gay crisis. Is she having a gay crisis and blind? Are you both blind? Do I need to get out the mistletoe?”

 

“Bring it out as long as you’re happy with it getting shoved up your ass.”

 

=

 

Fleur eventually met the rest of the crew—Sirius’ platonic soulmate James, Lily, Peter, and Lily and James’ son, Harry.

 

“I see what you meant,” Fleur whispered, watching with light alarm as Sirius and James wrestled on the ground. “It’s strange.”

 

“How?”

 

“I’m not used to this.” Tonks looked at Fleur curiously. She refused the urge to smooth away the crease between Fleur’s beautiful eyebrows. “I don’t really have family. I lost my parents. Gabrielle—my sister, we were in homes and other homes and then we got separated.” Fleur licked her lips. She watched Harry and Lily hold Teddy’s hands and swing him in the air. “I was homeless for awhile.”

 

“Do you live somewhere now?” 

 

“Yes. Not nice like this but any place is a good place.” Fleur scanned Tonks’ face and Tonks’ heart hammered in her chest. She wondered what Fleur looked for, what she saw. “I had an accident and had very bad amnesia. I don’t remember them much. Gabrielle a little.” 

 

“You never re-connected?”

 

Fleur shook her head. “Maybe one day.”

 

_What do you have to be scared of?_ Tonks thought. _What do you have to be ashamed of? You’re strong and smart and vibrant and lovely and you secretly pick up grapes a crazy old lady leaves so she can believe dancing mice take them—_

 

“This is so strange,” Fleur said again, surveying the bubbly love in the room. “I don’t know what this is like.”

 

Tonks swallowed. She took Fleur’s hand, laced her fingers with Fleur’s long ones, and tugged her into the throng, determined to replace lost with loved.

 

=

 

“Nymph,” Fleur said. “Do you want a hot chocolate? I’ll pay for it.”

 

Tonks blinked. The cashier of their coffee shop coughed, annoyed that they were holding up the line.

 

“Nymph?” Fleur asked.

 

“Um, yeah—yes.” Tonks had no idea why she said yes to a hot chocolate in this fucking sweaty summer but—no one had ever called her that before.

 

Tonks knew if anyone else said it, her cheeks would have burned with annoyance.

 

They were still burning but for an entirely different reason.

 

=

 

“I wish Min could be here to see this,” Pomona said one day after Fleur left the room.

 

“Me too,” Tonks said.

 

=

 

Nature or nurture, Tonks was open and recklessly transparent and careless about throwing herself head first and lacking all subtlety.

 

Fleur was wearing loose overalls and Tonks' stupid ugly Bob Dylan yellow crop top and you could see her armpit hair sticking out and she gestured weirdly as she talked about birds and—

 

_I adore you and I’d like to kiss you and date the shit out of you and fall in love and be, I just want to be, with you._

 

Tonks leaned forward and smoothed the crease between Fleur’s eyebrows with her thumb, softly, slowly.

 

=

 

Naturally, Tonks’ attempt at being gently unsubtle didn’t matter a week later when some guy behind her grabbed her butt.

 

Fleur grabbed his shoulder, twisted him to meet her, and slammed her elbow into his nose. She spat out something undoubtedly nasty in French but Tonks only heard the two words she could understand— _my Nymph._

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written flonks before so I'm super nervous posting this in case they are really ooc but I hope you enjoyed!! I mostly reblog wolfstar/marauders stuff but if you want, you can find me here on tumblr [siriuslysarcasticremus](https://siriuslysarcasticremus.tumblr.com/)  
> : )


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